Bindings
by Lazerwolf314
Summary: A collection of 200 word drabbles with one word prompts and range from light and fluffy to not so much. Trash : A fluff coated version of what season 4 should start like. She watched him with hopeful, sparkling doe brown eyes that melted him. Follows 3.13.
1. Scared

_Welcome. This will become my go to place for writing inspiration and a way to keep my thoughts coming. I've always had good luck with drabbles to keep myself writing and posting and I thought it was time to start comitting to them._

_While this is going to be primarily a Sam and Andy collection, you will see appearances by other characters, depending on how the word of the drabble plays out for me._

_Each chapter in this collection will be a 200 word on the dot (hopefully) drabble and each will be inspired by a word. What that means is, each drabble will have a specific word incorperated into it somehow._

_For example._

_Drabble Word : Scared_

_I will be creating a list of words for me to follow as a sort of challenge._

_Also, this collection will not follow the shows progression. I will be bouncing from season to season and episode to episode. Which means there will be a identifier for when the scene takes places._

_Set : Late season three; inspired by the promos for the finale._

_Not all drabbles will be inspired by episodes; some will simply be the results of half baked ideas finding a home. _

_Word Count : 200_

_And my disclaimer : I own the words, but not the world._

_Hope everyone enjoys and please let me know what you think._

* * *

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The second hand on the clock echoed with each second, the small sound amplified by the emptiness of the room.

By the emptiness of the entire 15 Division.

Andy hated the clock.

She hated the cold desk she stood before, the hard tiles beneath her boots. She hated the weight of her uniform and badge, the cold metal in her hands and the way her breath whistled between her teeth.

She stood alone in the center of her morality, hating herself.

Her shook, once, lightly, before she steeled her nerves and held the bomb still.

The bomb squad was on their way, Frank had informed her before he too had left.

Tick. Tock.

She closed her eyes, wished she was somewhere else.

To herself, she wished she was with Sam.

She nearly jumped when she heard the doors swish open, but froze, all her muscles locking as the metal ball trembled. She stared at it instead of the dark haired man making his way towards her.

"You shouldn't be here," Andy whispered.

"I know," Sam replied gently, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Sam, I'm scared."

"I know," he said again.

They stood together in silence.


	2. Box

_Drabble Word : Box_

_Set : Late season three. Tag continuation to Scared._

_Word Count : 200_

_Disclaimer : I own the words, but not the world._

* * *

Gentle hands wrapped around tense ones, each move deliberate and careful. The cautious fingers eased away the frozen ones, taking their place one by one. Seconds ticked by and slowly the whirlwind of panic and fear was replaced by the years of training and steadiness.

As soon as she was free and the serious grey eyes of the bomb tech met hers, Andy was pulled away by Sam and bundled to his body as he hurried the two of them from harm.

Tears streaked her cheeks, but she didn't remember shedding them.

Once they exited 15 Division at a run, she broke away from his grasp and made for the alleyway across the street.

Crouching, she was violently ill, all of the pent up feelings and terror spilling from her mouth and onto the dirty ground.

Sam's presence hovered at her back, protecting, guarding.

When she finally gained her legs, spat and swilled the water he offered, all she could do was stare at him. And show him everything that was inside with her eyes.

For a moment he was still.

Then he boxed her close to the wall and held on, assuring both of them they were still alive.


	3. Sweater

_Drabble Words : Sweater_

_Set : Late season three; tag ending to Scared and Box._

_Word Count : 200_

_Disclaimer : I own the words, but not the world._

* * *

Hours later, when the dead of night had settled over the city and the moon had crept to its peak in the sky, Andy allowed Sam to bustle her into his apartment.

Her body responded instinctively to whatever direction it was nudged, simply moving forward on autopilot. As exhausted as she was, Andy's heart still pounded and her frame shook with cold. She knew without a doubt that if she did manage to find sleep that night, it would be haunted by fear.

Somehow, she found herself bundled in one of his sweater's and a pair of sweat pants, both of which smelled entirely of Sam, and perched at one end of his couch.

He sat at the opposite end, the space between them filled with his words, his choice to break away and the memory of her devastated eyes as he climbed into his truck without a backwards look.

It was a foot of space and a wall of ice.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

She didn't have to ask what he was speaking of.

But Andy held her tongue.

Finally, she slid off the armrest and crawled to him, resting her head against his chest and breathed him in.


	4. Math

_Drabble Word : Math_

_Set : A (hopeful) future fic._

_Words : 200_

_Disclaimer : Words are mind, but the world isn't._

* * *

Coming home after a long shift, Sam wanted nothing more than to forget about the shift he had just faced and fall asleep with his wife in his arms.

Twisting the doorknob, he stepped inside the house and dumped his things in the entry way. Kicking off his boots, he made his way down the hallway to the kitchen and the soft voices rising from within.

It was sometime after eight, which meant they had already eaten dinner, but Sam knew Andy would have saved something for him. She always did.

Stopping in the doorway, Sam took a moment to imprint the scene in front of him to memory. He couldn't help but smile at the two dark heads bent over a sheet of paper and the way Ben beamed when his mother praised him.

"What are you guys doing?" Sam asked, making his way to his wife's side.

"Daddy, you're home!" the boy exclaimed, jumping from his stool for a hug. "Mommy's teaching me math," Ben told his father.

"Really? That doesn't sound like fun."

Andy stuck her tongue out at Sam over Ben's head, but her eyes sparkled in good humor.

The boy giggled.

"Welcome home," Andy murmured.


	5. Flesh

_Drabble Word : Flesh_

_Set : Post 'I Never'. A tag ending of sorts for the episode. _

_This will probably be the first of several post finale one-shots, but I believe (maybe) the only one in this collection. So keep an eye out._

_Word Count : 200_

_Disclaimer : I own the words, but not the world._

* * *

He waited at the bar for several hours before it truly sunk home.

She wasn't going to walk through those doors.

He wasn't getting a second chance.

He probably deserved that.

So, instead of going home and suffering another sleepless night, he had stayed at the bar and drank with Peck.

Peck, who was also missing someone.

Collins had been a no-show as well.

For some reason, Sam felt sick about it. Or perhaps it was the alcohol.

Eventually, he managed to make his way outside on unsteady feet. The fresh air struck powerfully as soon as he stepped through the door way but it did little to clear his mind.

Instead, he stood in the centre of the back alleyway for a long moment, before the bottle rage at himself and at her burst free and he lashed out with his fist.

The flesh over his knuckles thumped sickeningly against solid brick and his skin split.

But he didn't feel the pain.

Damn her.

Damn him.

Staring at his clawed and bloody hand, Sam realized that one of the best things in his life had slipped away and it was his fault for not fighting when he should have.


	6. Pale

_Drabble Word : Pale_

_Set : Mid to late season three. Sometime after 'The Rules'_

_Cameo Character : Nick Collins_

_Word Count : 200_

_Disclaimer : Own the words, but not the world._

* * *

She let herself into the apartment with the key she knew was tucked into the back of a loose brick near the door.

And was struck with the sound of deep, rattling coughs. Wincing slightly, she shut the door and called out. "Nick?"

"In here." His voice was a hoarse croak.

Making her way to the small living room, Andy halted in the doorway and surveyed the scene.

Nick was sprawled on the couch, a blanket strewn haphazardly over his legs, his face pale and sweaty. A small mountain of tissues had sprung to life on the coffee table and a plastic trash can was settled on the floor near Nick's head.

"You look like shit," Andy told him, moving tentatively into the room and sidestepped an errant tissue.

Nick's snort of laughter dissolved into another wheezing cough. "Thanks," he managed. "I told you, you didn't have to come over. I'll be fine."

Andy rolled her eyes. "Right. If you can make it to the kitchen by yourself, I'll leave." When that prompted no movement, she grinned. "That's what I thought."

"Fine. Do your worst," Nick mumbled, sitting up enough to hack into the trash can.

"I'll get the soup."


	7. Blue

_Drabble Word : Blue_

_Set : Early to mid-season 1._

_Word Count : 200_

_Disclaimer : Own the words, sadly, not the world._

* * *

Andy sat on the bench, staring into the open maw of her locker, feeling absolutely drained. She was numb, packed to the brim with stone. Her body felt heavy and alien and her hands continued to itch.

They had itched even after she had scrubbed her skin raw only two days ago.

A black protective bag hung on the back hook of her locker, its rough material keeping Andy's starched uniform blues clean inside.

This was the first time since the Academy she would have to wear them.

And she would have to wear them to stand witness to the burial of a fellow officer, Crayton Miers. A uniform for nearly fifteen years, he had been a step in T.O when Sam had called in sick.

Andy had been riding with him and found she liked the boisterous and caring man.

Andy had crouched over him, struggling to staunch a waterfall of blood from his neck after he took a shot point blank for her.

Her head dropped to her hands in exhaustion.

There was a gentle touch on her shoulder moments later.

Sam stood over her, face unreadable.

But she knew.

And she leaned into the comfort he offered.


	8. Water

_Drabble Word : Water_

_Set : Early to mid season 3_

_Words : 200_

_Disclaimer : Own these world but not the world._

* * *

A golden haze filtered through half closed blinds as the sun lifted from the horizon and illuminated a score of dust motes. Sam watched them dance as he absently played with a strand of Andy's hair.

She continued to sleep peacefully, but snuggled back and closer to him.

Sam smiled at her.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, he caught sight of the clock and nearly cursed. He had been so caught up with the beautiful woman sleeping in his arms that the time had slipped by.

Shaking her gently, he leaned down and murmured, "Andy, you have to get up."

She mumbled and buried her head beneath the pillow.

"Seriously, it's almost time for shift."

"G'way."

"Andy…"

"I mean it."

Sam paused and noted the item next to the alarm. A smirk curled his lips. "Fine," he told her. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

She just pulled the blankets over herself.

Sliding from the mattress, Sam padded around to the bedside table and picked up the glass of water.

Leaning over the bed, he tugged on the blankets and upended the water in her ear.

He was already to the door when she began to sputter.


	9. Trash

_Drabble Word : Trash_

_Set : A handful of months after 3.13. Because, while I truly believe this won't happen, I really needed the fluffyness._

_Words : 200_

_Disclaimer : Own the words, but not the world. Nor a dog named Boo. Unfortunately._

* * *

When Sam staggered from his bed (the very empty bed) that morning, he believed it would be exactly the same as many other mornings in a long line of mornings wherein nothing eventful happened and Andy still hadn't returned from her UC operation.

With Collins.

(But he wasn't thinking about that. Thinking about that and her absence would only lead to more dates with Scotch.)

On autopilot, he started up his coffee maker (their coffee maker) and pulled the trash bag from beneath the sink.

It was time for it to go to the street.

Clad in a pair of loose sweat pants and flip flops, he headed outside with bleary eyes.

And stopped dead at the foot of the stairs.

Because there she was.

(He was pretty sure he was dreaming; mildly hoping he was.)

She stood, hands in pockets, hovering next to his trash bin.

She watched him with hopeful, sparkling doe brown eyes that melted him.

After a long moment, where her expression slowly went from hopeful to crestfallen as he continued to hold silent, he finally moved forward.

She met him halfway down the path with a fiery kiss that spoke of only apology and love.


End file.
